30 posts in 30 days

My hubby is starting his master's degree program this week so I decided to throw myself into a new endeavor too. Not quite so industrious but notable none the less, for me. I'm dedicating myself to a month of daily blogging with hopes of creating a more consistent routine in my writing...and just for fun. My hopes are to blog both here and at A Path to My Woods daily during the month of November. I know it's a challenge, but one I'm looking forward to.

In light of a personal pursuit for inspiration in my daily life and in my art, I've decided to focus my blogs in that direction for the month. My Woods is, of course, mostly a picture of my family and home life, while A Path to My Woods is the inner journey, both wrapped up in my passion for living artfully. They are intertwined, and yet I felt compelled to make two separate blogs, mostly for my own exploration.

Please come back and read, my friends. I love your input...humor my questions and inspire me!

Letting it go....

Most Sunday afternoons I enjoy a few uninterrupted hours of artist time, sitting in a local coffee shop with a latte and my laptop or at the park across the way writing in a favorite quiet place. After two refreshing hours yesterday I was prepared to come home and write a blog about impermanence and detachment from my creative work...but only out of necessity. Sudden horror popped onto my screen as I was organizing some files from two book projects I'm working on. The message said something about a system crash and then everything locked up. Calmly rebooting my computer, I reopened my SD card files to find all except the one I was trying to delete to be gone, gone, gone. I slumped in my seat, cheeks flushed, tears welling up.

My first thought was rush home to Luke (computer tech hero on more than one occasion of my technical blunder) and wail out the proportion of my loss. Then, deep breath and self pep talk: "Get a hold of yourself, Ruth. Writing is a process. What you lose in content you have gained in personal growth. It's okay. Let go." I sat for a moment and pondered the inward journey and evolution all those vanished words walked me through. I felt them inside me, still transforming me, felt gratitude for the experience in the midst of loss. Then I went home and said, "Help!"
Yes, my hubby saved me again. I'm always amazed at how he can pull lost files out of thin air.

What a wonderful experience to be able to feel and let go. Of course, this was only my writing, not a loved one or limb. I can't say how I would respond in a different circumstance. But little by little we grow through the small experiences to reach a place of equanimity and surrender to the beauty of what is, embracing life as an opportunity to grow through it all.

Thankful Thursday: Music and Miniture Violinists

For the past month or so Sarah has been voicing her birthday wish list. She turned 5 this week. The list has remained surprisingly short and to be honest, quite impressive: a xylophone, a violin and Minnie Mouse slippers. Okay, I cannot tell you how much hearing my child express definitively that she wants a violin and a xylophone makes me wants to just gush all over the place. My mind immediately flashes forward to a beautiful young woman standing in a long black dress, bow in hand, accompanied by a full orchestra....or maybe chiming in with the percussionists in the background. I'm guessing she would have outgrown the slippers by then.

So, here is my little violinist at 5 years...now to find a teacher....

To celebrate her birthday we went to a high school marching band contest at the football field. It was a blast. I played percussion from fifth grade through high school and have an insatiable affinity for a really good street beat, so seeing my children sitting on the bleachers joyfully taking in the whole experience was a thrill. They were smiley and fidgety and obviously being effected by the beat. Sophie now tells me she plans to play the drums and Sarah of course, is set on the xylophone.

So, black tie orchestra or marching band, I have big dreams of enjoying my children make music as they grow. For now, I'm happy to add a lot of banging on the drumset and a squeaky violin to the living room guitar and piano conciertos I've already been awed by. :)

Thankful Thursday: On Art and Blogging...

Sorry about the blogging hiatus. I've been spending the last month in pursuit of, well, myself. Somewhere around my 34th birthday a disconnect occurred. Whether it was the idea of moving deeper into my thirties, my adorable husband hinting at middle-agedness or the realization that ten years speeds by after you pass your second decade (I mean, I just turned 20, right?)...well whatever, it sent me reeling for a few weeks. I still feel really young. In spite of the fact that my family has grown exponentially by 1 about every 2 years for the past decade, I am reasonably sane and optimistic about life. Most of the time I love being a mother, staying home with my kids and artistic endeavors. However, occasionally something pushes me over the edge (usually it has something to do with the moon phases) and I start to wallow in discontent.

I know you're starting to wonder what this has to do with art and blogging. I'm getting there. It's in the rescue. Sometimes we can willfully pull ourselves up by the bootstraps and sometimes we just need inspiration. Sometimes we need a friend or a word or a kick in the keister. Okay, in desperate situations, a handful of dark chocolate will suffice, but that's only a quick fix. We need each other.

Inspiration. A breath of fresh air. A reminder of who I am, of what sparks that innate flame that is Ruthie. Why am I moved by art? Why am I passionate about waking up and experiencing life? Why is creativity my path? These are the things that I need to come back to, what brings me home. So I wander along the river where I spend my Sunday afternoons, with notebook, i-pod and whatever book I'm ingesting. Then, whether it be some dear friend who feels that same spark or a kindred spirit I don't even know, some one is there...to inspire and to ignite. Wow. You dear ones will never know how I need you... please keep creating, inspiring and living artful lives.

And, impasse cleared, I'm back to blogging, hoping to bring a little inspiration to the world myself. Don't forget to check out A Path To My Woods too, which is basically my blog about the path...my spiritual journey and all the questions and ideas overflowing along the way.

On a side note...if you love Smallville or if you've never seen it, take a minute to check out Allison Mack's blog. I stumbled across it in a moment of fate and have been inspired and encouraged by the heart of this young woman and her passion for art and all things creative and compassionate.

August has been a month of craziness and exhaustion...and yet, I'm at a blank right now. The kids start school tomorrow so I'm hoping to catch a break, start getting to sleep earlier, rising earlier. We all need some structure in our lives.

Does the end of summer feel this way for everyone? Fall is such a welcome season, a cool breeze, some fresh air...just the thought of it is invigorating. Spring and Fall seem to bring us alive again, offer relief from the extremes of Winter and Summer...a brief interlude of balance.

What I need is a corner....a new view, a fresh perspective, a coming home. Yes. Little by little, excitement for the days ahead creeps in. It's the same weariness I feel at the end of the cold, dark months. Prospects of Spring breathe new life...offer a burst of something new. A corner...a corner home.

Have you ever driven over a hilltop and watched the horizon display the welcome view of home? I have. Some things change over time, but the feeling doesn't. When I moved a thousand miles from my home town, I learned that it really is true...there's no place like home, that place where your heart is at ease. Each place that we make a life has it's own memories, it's own feel. There's no place I'm more comfortable than at home. But now, when we make the trek back to the little town I grew up in, when we come over the hill and see the familiar places of my youth, something happens. Memories and feelings come flooding back. People, places...these are reminders of who I am, where I come from. I must admit, though, when we pull into our driveway at our own house after a very long drive back, the relief and comfort is overwhelming...it's good to be home.

But the corner home I'm looking for now is the one that leads inward, the one that reminds me of my first home...the place I long for most.

LOL

A few days ago, I was trying to herd my crew into bed and discovered my two little girls creating some interesting contraptions in their room. I walked in and they handed me one that they had been testing out on each other. "Mom, we invented a hypnotizing machine!" "Hmmmn," I thought, "This could be useful." The amazing thing was that, for the most part, the machine was a success. I just waved it over Sophie's head and chanted, "To bed I said, 'til morning lights upon your head!" And sure enough, she went to bed, giggling. Sarah, however, only responded to Samuel's hypnotizing, sooo....no such luck. Instead, I got a lot of silly dancing until I finally convinced Sam to send her off to bed. :)

Today over dinner, I asked my four-year-old, "How are you feeling today, Sarah?" Her totally straight-faced response, "I feel like a moose is eating me."

In the van, after a quick trip out in our jammies to return some rented videos, I mentioned that Grandma is coming over tomorrow so we can do something fun together. Sophie piped up from the backseat, "Hey, maybe we'll play some poker!" You must understand that neither Luke nor I have a clue how to play poker...and I'm pretty sure Grandma doesn't either. LOL

Have a cheerful day, loved ones!!

The One That Is Writing Me

Perusing the writing section at Borders recently, I came across an interesting looking book, one of the who-knows-how-many written by successfully published writers, for writers like myself. I don't remember the title or the author, but I do remember the first bit of advise: Don't tell ANYONE you are a writer or anything hinting at writing a book. I paused...a little surge of panic. I've been calling myself a writer, out loud, to people...for years. And then, the worst of it. My last blog entry...I announced to the whole world, well, to my very few loyal readers that I was working on a book. Oh geez, I really blew it. This author warned that I should tell no one...not my mother, not my husband or friends, especially not my children, who would roll their eyes in embarrassment. I would mark myself as a crazy dreamer, a fool. I put the book back on the shelf. Too late for that one.

So what about the book I mentioned in my last blog, the one I was meant to write? Let me elaborate, since, apparently, I've already crossed into the dangerous territory of labeling myself as a writer, perhaps I can alienate myself a bit more. The truth is, the book...it really is the one that is writing me. I've never had any serious aspirations to become a published author. Blogging covers that need to be heard pretty fully. Sure, it would be nice to get paid for doing what you love, but the point is, I don't need it...and that is a great feeling. I love my labels: wife, mommy, friend, writer, dishwasher, under-the-cushions-stuff-vaccumer, but I also realize all these things are as transient as the moment. So I love them, but try not to cling to them. Writing is simply how I live...it's been that way for a very long time now. What I experience and how I grow seeps into my writing. And sometimes, even more poignant, the writing is the experience. That's what I'm talking about. I'm not sure I can explain it in any other way. This book that is writing me is one of my crazy, intentional ideas...an adventure in creative non-fiction...an attempt to observe, question, document, and grow as a writer, as a person, all while savoring the words and art of it.

The joy is in the writing, and in walking, and in tickling, and in sipping a hot cup of tea. The joy is in folding blueberries into a bowl of wholegrain muffin batter. The joy, my dears, is in now, and now and now. When I forget, the pool of water pouring off the table ruffles my joy. The moments of quarreling children and tantrums overwhelm me. These moments, too, are the way of it. And these are the ones that are writing me, as I am writing this post.

So there you have it, the dreaming writer's life and the book I was meant to write. Now you can roll you eyes. :)

The One I Was Meant To Write

This morning I'm making pancakes...right this very minute. Isn't that awesome? These words are coming to you straight from my kitchen counter top, in between pancake flips and table-setting. And who, you may ask, is responsible for this wonder of wonders? Someone who thought giving me a little pink laptop computer would help me to "blossom."

Now the kids and I have finished our breakfast, so this Saturday morning calls me and my laptop outside. You know your husband has been mowing the lawn when the kiddy pool is perched awkwardly atop the play fort. I spend many mornings and evenings after the kids are in bed, sitting on the deck or on my front porch with my little computer. Lately, Sunday has become my day out. A few hours to myself is always something to look forward to. I've been dreaming for several years of taking this kind of time for myself, but have had a difficult time pulling myself away, leaving my whole crew to fend for themselves (and also a little nervous about how the house will look when I return.) Once again, the giver of my pink laptop has priorities...I have noticed. Last Sunday, exhausted after returning from vacation, and a little emotionally overwhelmed, I was not in the best of moods. I certainly didn't feel like writing. After a few hours of making myself 'busy' around the house and ranting about why I really don't have time to go, my husband said, "you are going!" and saw me to the door. The funny thing is that I have been talking for years about taking time like this, but when he finally asked me, "What can I do to help you blossom?", I needed his help to get over myself enough to just walk out the door. Honestly, I love being loved by him.

I'm developing an affair, however, with Tim Hortons lattes...he pushed me to it. I tuck my little computer in my backpack and head of for some quiet time. I love sitting with my mug of coffee, soothing music on my ipod, writing away at my table in the corner. It's the book I'm working on...the one I affectionately call, "the one I was meant to write." And it may very well be that, in truth, this is the one...that is writing me.

Thankful Thursday: Sunsets, Children To Watch Them With and Friends Who Inspire Us to Live Our Best

Today I cleaned my house. I cleaned it with enthusiasm and even a hint of joy. Then I sat with my son and listened to him tell me about the first four original Superman comics. At about 8:20 p.m., I loaded my jammie-clad children in the van and chased the sunset west. We found a perfect view, parking on the edge of a dirt road next to a vast sunflower field, just newly blossomed, and watched the sun slip below a distant line of trees. Of course, the mood was interrupted more than once with "I'm thirsty," "I'm hot" and "I want to go home." But we endured, returning home radiant and playful and together.

I love sunsets...they are one of my all-time favorite things. We all want to live like this everyday, fully and freely. What would it be like to live life with open arms and open hearts...to chase sunsets and other spectacular things...to walk in the woods...to smile because you can? I am so so thankful for the dearest of friends who's kind words were enough to inspire the very best in me today. Thank you for remembering who I am even when I forget!

Keep the Field Guide in the Circle!

If you have read the Spiderwick Chronicles or indulged in the movie, like us, you would know the necessity of keeping the Field Guide within the protective circle. It is critical to your survival. My children know this well. In spite of their knowledge of pixies, sprites, trolls, goblins and such, they persist in taking their own copy of Arthur Spiderwick's Field Guide, outside of the barrier...a mistake I myself have warned them about. A few weeks ago, they and the neighbor girls, who are also well aware of the dangers, unwarily carried the Field Guide out of the protective parameters encircling the house. They had taken all the necessary precautions of salting the windowsills and packing plenty of tomato sauce, besides the crackers and honey, but somehow forgot the enchanted circle. I was busy doing dishes when I paused to look out the window, then ran to the back door. "Whatever you do," I yelled, "don't take the Field Guide outside of the circle!" They looked up at me with shocked, somewhat guilty expressions. I actually was hoping to get a laugh out of them. Sophie was the first to confess, "We dropped it in the pool, it's all wet." This was too perfect. I couldn't help but indulge myself in the game, and hopefully salvage it for the kids who were a little down about the shape of the book. "That's what happens," I playfully scolded, "when you take the Field Guide out of the circle. It was the goblins, wasn't it?" They took the bait without skipping a beat, explaining breathlessly and in detail the great struggle that took place between them and the goblins and how the book had finally ended up at the bottom of the inflatable kiddy pool, giggles, sparkling eyes and knowing grins ensuing. The book was gently laid out to dry in the sunshine, happy children, happy mama, savoring the pure joy of make-believe, all still quite certain that we have heard skittering in the walls.